Silvi’s tongue stumbled, her face looking slightly shocked after digesting my reply. It was a scene that made me utterly confused. 

Why was she startled? She should have at least expect to receive a few hits. Has her intoxication rooted so deep that she thought no one would ever stand up to her? Perhaps the other underclassmen feared her just that much.

Silvi took a pause, her lips smacking, trying to search for a way to jab back at my show. And signaling her success, her previous expression returned; displaying hints of her arrogance once more. However, it did not matter much. Because whatever she may send flying towards me, I was ready and weaving.

“I see. This is probably why you don’t have any friends, huh?”

…Come on.

It was an admirable swing of a slugger. But just as how she was conceited, her attempt fell short in vain.

It did not make sense.

Does her retort mean that she does have friends?

If the way she acted was supposed to be the prime example of how I could make one, then I rather not have any.

Scratch friends. If I were to make one through her methods, it was more appropriate to define them as underlings instead.

Suddenly, I noticed that talking to Silvi kept sending an uneasy feeling down my gut. And since I was about to have a badminton match, I momentarily stopped our conversation. That is if I can even call this as one.

…

“Gwen will have the first serve. This match is a best out of 3. The first one to get to two sets wins!”

Thus, the destined battle will soon commence. Both of us readied ourselves by moving to opposite sides of the courts.

I’m having the first serve, huh?

For the first time in my life, holding a badminton racquet sent a feeling of regret down my spine. I wished that what I was holding was designed for tennis instead. Then perhaps, I could blow her to smithereens without letting her connect even once.

But whatever. Regardless of the game, I was determined.

“Both of you ready?”

There is a reason why they call me a genius after all.

I took a deep breath and concentrated on my opponent. With a short exhale, I initiated my serve.

Except for the sound of the flung shuttlecock, the court was almost dead silent, only to be accompanied by brief screeches of rubber from the friction between the ground and footwear. And each time the strings of my racquet vibrate through contact, my anticipation only grew larger. The match began with a nerve-wracking rally.

Obviously, winning was dead set in my mind. And in order to achieve that, there were a couple of ways to approach the matter. 

Firstly, I could just conserve my strength and look for good openings. With a steady, controlled, and efficient pace, there is almost no possibility of me losing. 

However, I immediately concluded this tactic as anything but fun. For what I wanted was not merely a victory.

An utter stomp, a total and undeniable victory.

“Ugh!”

Silvi suddenly grunted as her body flailed and hit the ground, reaching her badminton racquet to return my shot. Without thinking too much about it, my body moved on its own, appeared to have made a difficult trajectory for the upperclassman. And at that moment, I came to realize that there was no need for strategy. All that I needed to do was to grasp this opportunity.

My gaze glances upwards, pinning on the shuttlecock which was floating far above the net. And as my limbs were locked waiting, the shuttlecock answered my patience without delay as it immediately plummeted towards me after it had reached peak elevation. Now arching downwards in perfection, its trajectory left a trail of rainbows, embodying its beauty in my perspective.

And beyond the imaginary colors, Silvi, who was lowering her body in an attempt to balance her weight, stood in the middle of the picture. 

Ah. Nothing speaks louder than a stunning smash.

I swung my racquet as if I was flinging a whip. As quickly and precise as possible, I rotated both my arm and wrist in one simultaneous movement. In an instant, the shuttlecock was propelled across the court, landing right next to Silvi.

“Ck. Shit.”

Silvi’s expression spiked in the realization of first blood, looking anxious after I scored the lead. And undeniably, it was justifiable.

Because right now, she was alone, trapped in this court alongside me. In this rectangular space, there was no one that could come to our aid. And if we should fail... there would be no one else to blame. 

You are standing in my territory, Silvi.

Alone, I stand as the strongest.

…

Naturally, the game continued. And without much thought of mercy, I have pummeled my way through the first set, now close to obtaining the second. As if serving as another evidence, the sight of my opponent gasping for air further confirmed the situation. Was she out of breath? Or were they short due to desperation? Regardless, the game was pretty much set.

“The current score is 20 to 8! Matchpoint for Gwen!”

Coach suddenly shouted, reminding Silvi of the undeniable truth yet again. And it was not as if she did not know. Evident, she was visibly clicking her tongue due to the frustration of knowledge. Coach probably just pissed her off even more with that.

But it is fine, Silvi. I will end it.

Once more, I took a deep breath and readied myself to serve. I held the shuttlecock right between my fingertips and batted it gently, beginning the round. Silvi returned the serve easily and sent a good arc to my side. 

However, it was nothing far from my control. With the information of Silvi’s accumulating fatigue, I immediately shot a far lob to the corner of her court. As expected, Silvi reacted late due to her exhaustion. And even though she managed to receive the lob, her shot did not go far and was now arching high near the net.

I guess this is it.

My legs instinctively ordered me to jump. And while in the air, I could see the other side perfectly. Without hesitation, I whipped my racquet in one swift movement.

“Game set! It’s Gwen’s victory!”

Coach’s whistle then blew, ending the match with the conclusion.

Yet other than the sharp noise, there were no other.

One would expect that a sports match will end with the festivities of the audience. But it was a dead crowd here, understandably.

Silvi was kneeling on the ground, her face filled with frustration and rage. At the last moments, I saw her still desperately trying to return my last shot; an act that ended in vain. I guess the sight of someone dwelling in defeat was not something the audience should be clapping to. Moreover, even though I was the utter victor, there was almost nothing to be delighted about. With my adrenaline no longer coursing through me, I realized that this match did not really mean a thing. Why was I so worked up about it, anyway?

Did I really lose my composure just because of her weak banters?

No... That’s not it.

I…